Note: I ship Science Boyfriends. This fic, however, is not explicitly of that shipping persuasion. In here, they can be interpreted as Science Bros, Science Boyfriends, or just Decent Team Mates. Whatever floats your little fanpowered boat.

Friendship Is Science

Hulk was always there.

Tony knew that for a fact; he'd always suspected it - those hazel eyes had been brown until Bruce had gained control over his gloriously destructive tantrum-throwing alter ego - but when Bruce had said, oh, so calmly, I'm always angry, it was cemented in his mind.

Whether Hulk was a protective imaginary friend manifested in the form of a none-too-jolly Green Giant or an eternally bloodstained Id to Bruce's mild-mannered Ego or even a truly tantrum-aged brat the colour of green beans and the size of a barn, he was there to stay.

And sometimes, as stubborn and determined as every part of Bruce, he refused to leave.

Some of the Avengers steered clear.

Natasha, who wore scars the Psych team couldn't even begin to Mederma away, hated being around things she couldn't control. Hulk, being an emotional wreck that could flick Thor and send him flying, fell into the textbook definition of that category. As much as she liked Dr. Banner, his not-so-mild-mannered counterpart sent her scurrying.

Thor usually stayed away, too; after being thrown like a Superball, he'd taken a shine to the Hulk. He was made to punch Asgardian warriors in the face, and Thor could not only take it, but relish it. He loved sparring, but the adrenalin and combat instincts would only prolong his stays, and it was imperative that Bruce always come back.

Some visited, but only in short little bursts, careful not to disturb. Steve visited an hour after every extra-sticky battle, sitting at Hulk's side and drawing; the rasp of charcoal on paper, rhythmic and soothing, oftentimes lulled Hulk to sleep, letting Bruce back out. Other times, he'd try to mimic the Captain, a toddler copying an older kid on the train out of inborn admiration.

But Clint and Tony were Bruce's friends. Not only were they friends, but they were just fucked up enough to like Hulk as much as they did Bruce. He was destructive and angry and fierce, but he also had an immense capacity for kindness and gentility.

For example, he was contained in a padded and reinforced room - tested rigorously and totally Hulk-proofed - and, rather than raging and tearing things apart, he prodded at the squishy walls with a quiet curiosity. He finger-painted sometimes, but only when Steve was in the room, and he always presented his artwork to Clint or Tony with a suppressed eagerness, lower lip caught between his teeth. More often than not, they were near-indecipherable - his fingers are massive - but there were bright splashes of red and gold and brusque streaks of purple and black, indicative of his friends, and Clint always hung them proudly, ruffling his dark green curls.

Most prominent, though, is his fondness for children's television.

Cyberchase was always a favourite; even with his limited vocabulary and stunted communications skills, he managed to convey immediate answers in regards to math that flashed across the screen.

Sometimes, if it could be found, he'd watch Caillou, his massive jaw perched in his massive hands, eyes wide.

His favourite, though, would have to be My Little Pony.

They'd stumbled across it by accident; Tony had been surfing for an episode of Looney Toons and had skimmed past the Hub.

A yellow pegasus was plummeting from the sky, limbs wheeling desperately for purchase until she landed in a swarming sea of butterflies.

Click; they skimmed up a channel.

Hulk got so frustrated that he ended up tearing apart his finger-paintings, Clint humming circus tent lullabies as Tony flipped back to find it.

The pegasus was singing by the time they found the show again, and a bright pink butterfly appeared on her flanks. Hulk clapped, a rough, ear-splitting giggle leaking out of his wide, green mouth.

Tony set a DVR timer to record every episode that came on. It worked well for about a month, and then the DVR broke.

Hulk, sat down with his legs crossed like a kindergartener's, waited eagerly for a full half-hour before it became apparent that, no, he would not see any of his favourite show today. Every pre-recorded episode was wiped from the mainframe, and the episode that had aired mere hours beforehand were totally gone.

He snapped; he threw the TV, the DVR, peeled back some of the padding and beat the floor with his fists until the whole tower shook. When he finally calmed down enough to see what he'd done, his lower lip trembled and he started crying.

People say there's nothing worse than seeing an ugly person, or an old man, or a fat girl cry.

People are dumb, because there's nothing worse to see in all universes than the Hulk crying, slumped over on himself, squeezing his ribcage because he's too big to be hugged by anyone else, too ashamed to look at Birdie and Metal Man hiding in the panic room S.H.I.E.L.D. had made Tony install.

Eventually, he cried himself out, snoring quietly as he shrank down into his usual scrawny 5'9" self, and as Clint hoisted him upright, one sleep-heavy arm slung about his broad shoulders, Tony felt an irrational surge of compunction - never again would he allow TiVo to fail so stupendously; never again would Hulk miss his show.

It was another two months before Hulk got stuck, and Tony spent those two months burning midnight coal for days on end, hammering out details and fabricating to-scale parts.

By the time Hulk got stuck - Doombots, with the Fantastic Four nowhere in sight; fuck you very much, Reed - Tony was certain he had every bug worked out.

"Hey, big guy," he said, grinning.

"Hhhh... T'ny."

"I gotcha something. Well. Made it myself. It's pretty friggin' sweet, string bean, if I may say so." Tony laid out a big, long box, wrapped in an entire roll of Christmas paper, and beamed up at Hulk in anticipation.

"Prezzz... int," Hulk managed, beaming crookedly. He made eager grabby-hands at the package, scooping it up and hugging it tight. The cardboard crumpled under his grip, but the contents of the box remained unbroken. "Fuh... Hulk?"

"Yeah, buddy!" Tony nodded, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. "C'mon, open it up!"

Hulk carefully set it down, peeled apart the wrapping like it was nothing but ephemera, and promptly screamed with glee.

It was a laptop - Stark Industries standard made to Hulk-scale with big, clear type on the keys and literally indestructible - propped open to reveal a YouTube page full of Ponies.

Hulk roared his thanks, reaching out with the same grabby-hands to hug Tony. He was beyond gentle, handling him like he was holding a cotton candy cloud - careful not to so much as dent the spun-sugar fluff that was his armour. Tony patted his shoulder, grinning, and waited to be set down.

He was not.

Instead, Hulk and Clint spent the next four hours watching Friendship Is Magic and throwing popcorn at each other, Tony clutched to Hulk like a teddy bear. Eventually, he fell asleep.

When he awoke, Bruce was sat a few yards away, a blanket wrapped around his hips, smiling fondly at the massive laptop, one hand tracing over the raised print on the keys. His eyes were soft, warm, and Tony couldn't help but smile at his quiet Science Bro.

Fuck magic; friendship is science.

The opinions expressed by Tony Stark or any other Avenger within this story is not indicative of the opinions of the author or Marvel. I, for one, think Hulk is beyond awesome and that Pinkie Pie is his favourite of all the Mane Six, and that magic is just as shiny.

Also, I apologise; this came out way pre-slashier than I thought it was.

But whatever.

HULK ALWAYS BRONY!